


Panem et Circenses

by InkStainsOnMyHands



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved
Genre: 75th Hunger Games, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Consensual Underage Sex, Explicit Language, Exposition, Hunger Games-Typical Death/Violence, Inspired by The Hunger Games, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 19:54:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11364486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkStainsOnMyHands/pseuds/InkStainsOnMyHands
Summary: “As a reminder that even the strongest among you cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, on this, the third Quarter Quell games, the male and female tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors from each district-”Shane felt his world fall away. A cold numbness coursed through his body. His heart leapt in his throat while his stomach dropped to his feet. If not for Ryan beside him, he would have given into his urge to vomit.





	Panem et Circenses

**Author's Note:**

> This is a completely self-indulgent au. I'm absolutely in love with the Hunger Games universe, and I like using my favorite people/characters in order to make a commentary about how screwed up it is. 
> 
> This fic is set up in the actual Hunger Games universe, as in, the same universe the main Hunger Games characters are in. The timeline is, somewhat, fuzzy due to this. But, just to do the math for you, Shane is the 61st victor and Ryan is the 66th victor. 
> 
> Side note: you don't need to know a lot about the Hunger Games to enjoy this fic. I used Shane's contemplative nature to allow for a lot of exposition. Anything that you don't readily understand can be looked up pretty easily. 
> 
>  
> 
> **Note: I cannot stress this enough. Please heed the tags. While nothing is explicit, it can be triggering for some people.**

A sudden erratic bumping woke Shane from his daze. After blinking away rest-induced dew from his eyes, he found himself staring out at endless fields through his transport’s window. 

A yawn escaped his maw. The temptation to doze off was ever-present. Regardless, the unpaved road leading into District 10 both jostled him out of any semblance of comfort and signaled their imminent arrival to their destination. 

Shane glanced over at Ryan. His partner chewed at the very top of his thumbnail while staring straight into the back of their driver’s seat as though it were an endless abyss. 

Shane felt a tug at the right corner of his mouth. With a gentle hand, he reached out and placed a fingertip on the top of Ryan’s occupied hand. “Hey,” he called out quietly. “You alright?” 

Ryan startled back. He whipped his head toward the taller man. With a chuckle that was both nervous and relieved, he said, “Yeah, just, I have a bad feeling about the shoot.” 

“You always have a bad feeling about the shoot,” Shane countered. “What’s really up?” 

Ryan shook his head. He looked away and fidgeted in his seat. “Quarter Quell announcement is today.”

“Oh, I forgot about that,” Shane lied.

===

Once they reached the gate into town, a near squadron of white-armored peacekeepers approached their vehicle. Despite his years of traveling, Shane had never seen so many officers at a border before. He felt his hands grow sweaty.

One of the guards knocked on Shane’s window, while the others patrolled the area around their van. Just as Shane placed a finger over his door’s control panel, the officer made an impatient spiraling motion with his finger. Shane gave a drawn-out sigh as he proceeded to roll the window down. 

“Permits,” the peacekeeper commander with little tone to his voice. 

The two men gave polite, if not strained, smiles as they dug into their respective jacket pockets. They fished out their permit cards and handed them to the peacekeeper. 

With a tap on its face, the guard activated the projection on Shane’s card to display his standard picture, biological information, District 4 designation, special travel permissions and, of course, the gold star that came with his victor status. The officer did the same to Ryan’s before he handed the devices back to them. 

Wordlessly, he waved the van through the gates.

===

The producer for _Panem Unsolved_ gathered the staff, including Shane and Ryan, into the living room of the cottage they would stay in for the remainder of the trip. They made themselves comfortable among the various pieces of furniture, (though one woman refused to sit on the couch due to its incorrect upholstery).

 

In front of the small audience, a large haloscreen projected the pre-ceremony coverage: footage taken from the last two Quarter Quells, speeches explaining the historic significance of these special editions of The Hunger Games, and predictions about what would be in store for the new set of tributes. 

Shane suppressed a shiver. Although he had only been six years old at the time of the last Quarter Quell, he still remembered the hushed murmurings uttered after the special twist was announced. That year, twice as many tributes were selected to participate, a reminder that for every Capitol citizen killed during _The Rebellion_ , two rebels died. 

Twice as many tributes meant twice as many chances for glory, he had overheard some parents say through smiles that didn't quite meet their eyes. Others thanked their good fortune that they lived in a wealthy District; at least their tributes were well-fed, strong and trained, unlike the others. The odds should have been in their favor. 

They didn’t realize that the odds were never in anyone’s favor but the Capitol's. 

It was an easy lesson to learn, but one that only victors seemed to grasp. After watching fellow teens die to murder, starvation, exposure or simple misfortune, it wasn’t difficult to realize that the citizens of the districts were merely lesser stock given false pretenses of worth depending solely on their geographical location. Shane snorted. 

“You okay?” Ryan whispered. 

Shane nodded. “Yeah, just, had a funny little thought.” 

The producer, from behind them, made a hushing sound. “Please be respectful, our president is speaking,” she scolded, her tone condescending.

Shane was tempted to remind her that he was not a child, but thought better of it. Ryan already appeared as taut as a bowstring ready to snap; there was no reason to start a confrontation that could push him over the edge. 

They both turned their attention back to the haloscreen, where the heavy-bellied, bearded, white-haired leader of Panem, President Snow, addressed the crowd. 

“ - every twenty-five years, there would be a Quarter Quell to keep fresh, for each new generation, the memory of those who died in the uprising against the Capitol. Each Quarter Quell is distinguished by games of a special significance. And now this, the 75th anniversary of our defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate the third Quarter Quell,” President Snow began. Before the leader, on the podium, lay a golden box. He reached inside and produced an envelope with the number “75” written upon it. Inside the envelope was a slip of paper, and from that paper he read, with a cruel smile, “As a reminder that even the strongest among you cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, on this, the third Quarter Quell games, the male and female tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors from each district-” 

Shane felt his world fall away. A cold numbness coursed through his body. His heart leapt in his throat while his stomach dropped to his feet. If not for Ryan beside him, he would have given into his urge to vomit. 

There was a gasp from far, far away, followed by the question, “How could they do this?” 

“What’s going to happen to the show?” another one asked. “We can’t replace them. The audience likes them together.”

Ryan gave a cold, bitter laugh, pulling Shane back into reality. “You’re kidding right?” he asked beneath his breath. Suddenly, the younger man flew out of his seat to face his crew. “You’re fucking kidding me, right?” 

“Ryan -” Shane started in an attempt to sooth the creature that overtook his companion. 

“No!” he belowed. “Fuck you. Fuck this stupid ass show. Fuck The Capitol.” Ryan picked up the small lamp resting on the end table next to the couch. He threw the offending object against the wall. It exploded in a shower of ceramic pieces and broken glass. 

Shane reached out to place a grip on Ryan’s wrist. The smaller man snatched his arm away. His icy glare turned towards him. “They promised us, Shane!” he screamed. “They were going to leave us alone, and now they're telling us that we’re going to be reaped all over again?” 

“Ryan, please,” Shane pleaded. Involuntary hiccups bubbled passed his lips until they dissolved into full-blown sobs. In shame, he covered his face with his hand. His hot tears felt sticky and disgusting on his palms. 

In the distance, a door slammed. 

===

If Shane had to think back on the worst mistake Ryan had ever made, it would have been listening to his directions for winning the Games too closely. 

At first, it came as a shock that Ryan would even think to pick him as a mentor. Of all the previous victors District 4 had to offer, Shane was the least likely person for the boy to have selected. 

While Ryan took advantage of the physical training provided to him by District 4’s Career School, when placed in Shane’s wilderness survival lessons, he made minimal, if any, effort. However, the moment he was picked, and the stark reality of his situation set in, it seemed as though Ryan came to the realization that glory came with endurance, not bloodshed. 

During his pre-Hunger Games training, Ryan pleaded with Shane to teach him the skills he would need to live. Shane gladly instructed Ryan on how and when to build a fire, forage for food, create a shelter, tie a knot, and most importantly, how to carbo-load.

“Muscle burns more calories than fat,” Shane had instructed as he handed Ryan another piece of cake. “I won my games because my last opponent starved to death. He was a meathead, just like you.” 

In response, Ryan muttered, “Shut up, Shane,” for the first time. Shane would treasure that memory forever. 

Just before Ryan was escorted to the helipad, where a hovercraft awaited to take him, Shane frantically blurted out,“When the countdown ends, give yourself another second. Let everyone else fight for weapons or run away. Then you grab a survival pack and get the fuck out of there.” It was the last piece of advice he gave. It was the piece of advice that would condemn Ryan to his current life. 

Ryan followed his direction flawlessly. In fact, he had made almost no errors in judgement that Shane could account for. If the game makers hadn’t forced the remaining teens to interact by cutting off major sections of the arena, Ryan could have gone through the entire game without killing a single person. Regardless, when he did finally encounter a hostile enemy, he killed them with a brutal precision that struck Shane to the core. It was difficult to reconcile between the kid who playfully bantered with him and the cold-blooded killer on his haloscreen. Overall, he would murder a total of four children. 

Due to Shane’s guidance, Ryan emerged unmaimed and nearly unscatched. Any injuries to his person were quickly mended by The Capitol. After only a week of recovery, the fifteen-year-old was whole and fit. 

And, unlike the gangly eighteen-year-old Shane had been after his victory, Ryan was beautiful and oh, so young. Too young. 

During Ryan’s time at The Capitol, Shane was well aware of the stares and whispers that followed the boy. Entire magazines and programs were dedicated to him. Story after story, page after page, were filled with fantasies for a child barely in the throes of puberty. 

Shane feared that his protege would have no other choice than to become the latest high-end whore for Panem’s elite to use. If only Ryan had bared the scars of his time in the Games, then maybe he could have avoided such a fate. 

Just as he began to regret nearly every decision he had made for Ryan, the boy, during a televised interview, confessed the feelings he allegedly had for his mentor. So shocked, and so elated, was Shane that he hadn't stop to think that maybe, just maybe, Ryan was more perceptive than he had given him credit for. 

Shane coveted Ryan with all he had, while convincing himself that his actions were purely selfless. In his mind, he only played the part of the dutiful lover to keep Ryan safe from the perversions of others. The twenty-one-year-old made no parallels between himself and those monsters, until it was too late. 

After their wedding, thrown only a year after Ryan’s startling announcement to Panem, Shane lay awake wondering if Ryan’s hesitation to consummate their marriage was simply a virgin’s shyness or desperate reluctance. The idea broke his heart in more horrifying ways than one.

===

Shane exited the bathroom; a plume of steam followed him into the bedroom.

Ryan sat at the edge of the bed. For a moment, neither of the moved, too afraid to do anything but stare at one another. Then, in a movement so fast Shane hardly registered it, Ryan raced towards him. The smaller man pressed himself against his husband and wrapped his arms around his neck. 

“I’m sorry,” Ryan sobbed into the meat of his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, I just -” 

“It’s okay,” Shane murmured. He placed a kiss on the crown of his head. “I know, I get it.” 

Ryan lifted his chin to rest it upon Shane’s collarbone. With a hushed breath, he whispered, “Something weird is going on here, Shane.” 

_No, no, no, no._ Shane felt nearly every muscle in his body tense with irritation. Normally, he loved to humor Ryan’s conspiracy theories, but after the evening they’d had, the well of his patience had run dry. Their reality was far too serious, far too grim, for these games. “Ryan -” Shane warned through clenched teeth as he pulled away from their embrace. 

“Shane,” Ryan growled, his tone just as biting. He tightened his hold on the other man, keeping him still. With a hiss to Shane’s ear, he commanded,“Listen to me for once in your life.” 

Shane took a deep breath and paused. 

“Shane, the cards in those envelopes were written during the first Hunger Games, right? Well, it’s theoretically possible that some of the districts wouldn’t have had a single victor. You don’t think The Capitol would have thought of that? And don’t you think it’s a little too convenient that they’re trying to kill off the remaining victors while a revolution is rallying behind one of them -” 

“Whoa! What? What are you even saying? What revolution?” Shane sputtered incredulously. 

Ryan hushed him. “Keep your voice down, you stupid idiot.” 

Shane rolled his eyes. “Ryan, I am way too tired for this -” 

Ryan shoved Shane off of him.“God damn it, man, just open your fucking eyes. You don’t see all the extra peacekeepers? The sudden media blackouts in some of the districts. You don’t hear what’s going on everywhere we go?” Though he continued to whisper, the gestures his hands made emphasized his point. 

“And so what?” Shane hissed. “Even if it’s true, what can we do about it?” 

Tension seized the moment. The unwelcome frustration between them thickened the air. 

Then, like an over-inflated balloon, their animosity popped out of existence. 

Ryan’s shoulders dropped and his warm, chocolate eyes turned to the floor. He shrugged. “You’re right. I don’t even know what I’m saying.” 

Guilt was a cold, heavy weight on Shane’s chest. He took a step forward. With a gentleness he knew Ryan needed, he grasped his upper arms. “Let’s just not think about it until the reaping comes, okay? Let’s just act like everything’s normal, alright?” 

Ryan nodded.

===

Despite their shared agreement, they did, in fact, think about it.

It was obvious in the way Ryan would sweetly ask Shane to work out with him in between filming. He was only looking for a sparring partner, of course. Nevermind that he already had a personal trainer, he simply wanted Shane to keep him company, that’s all, he claimed. Shane made no mention that he noticed Ryan wordlessly guiding him through sculpting his physique and improving his combat tactics. 

Did Ryan notice Shane fattening him up, he wondered? His excuse to try out new recipes was a flimsy one at best. Yet, Ryan ate everything Shane provided without complaint. And, when they made love, Ryan said nothing about Shane’s propensity to grab at his hips, ass and thighs to gauge just how much more the boy stored.

===

Many of District 4’s tributes wanted either Finnick Odair or Ryan Bergara to be their mentor. Finnick was never happy to take the mantel, but he did so with little complaint. Ryan, however, would take a moment to observe the tribute’s mannerisms and how they carried themselves.

It was rare for Ryan to willingly accept the role of mentor. 

Often, Ryan would say, “You know how to fight, kid, but you don't know how to survive. Pick Shane, he’ll keep you alive.” 

They never did. They would either change their pick to Finnick or insist Ryan do his duties.

===

Shane awoke unable to move. Intellectually, he knew he was suffering from sleep paralysis. Emotionally, however, he couldn't convince himself that the boy with the horrendous neck wound standing over at corner of his room wasn't a real threat.

Each time the boy breathed, Shane could see flesh and sinew move unnaturally within the gaping hole. It made him sick to his stomach. 

Within a blink of an eye, the boy was no longer in the corner of the room, but standing over Ryan. A sharp hunting knife glinted in his bloodied hand. The same knife Shane used… 

“You never even knew my name,” the boy spoke with a wistfulness that crawled down Shane’s spine. “Why do you get to have a family while you took me away from mine?” 

Shane wouldn't be able to answer the child even if he could speak. For fifteen years, he asked himself that some question. Why did he get to live while others died, while they continued to still die? 

Regardless, Shane wanted to say something, anything that would stop the child from raising the knife over his head, but he was frozen, even as the boy aimed a strike to Ryan’s throat. 

“No!” Shane’s scream echoed through the walls of their house. Outside, a flock of birds cascaded into the sky. 

Ryan woke with a start. Without preamble, he sat up to take hold of a hysterical, quaking Shane. (When had Shane gotten up?) The older man relentlessly screamed at the ghosts haunting his conscience until his voice became too hoarse to continue. His tears continued to fall, soaking Ryan’s shirt as he wept against his chest. 

“I can't lose you,” Shane whimpered into the stillness of dawn. “I can’t.” 

Ryan carded a hand through his hair and said nothing. 

===

The evening before the reaping was like any other. They ate dinner, they showered, they watched television, and then they went to bed. 

That night, neither of them slept. 

The couple held onto one another with a desperation that came from knowing they may never see each other again. From one hour to the next, they joked (“If I die, I’m going to come back and haunt you so I can prove ghosts are real.” “Are you going to have some sort of press conference?” “I’ll just wheeze into the mic, that way you know it's me.”), they cried (“Shane, if you get picked, I’ll volunteer -” “No! No, I will never forgive you if you do that.” “Then you better not volunteer for me either.”), and they basked in silence, exchanging innocent kisses and sweet touches. 

When the sun began to peak over the horizon, Ryan huffed out a small laugh. Before Shane could open his mouth to speak, his partner whispered, “I can’t even feel bad that I got reaped, even now. If I hadn’t, we would’ve never become friends or gotten together, started _Unsolved_ \- none of that. In a way, I’m sort of grateful. I mean, how many people can say they married their childhood crush?”

Shane pulled his shoulders back to gaze at Ryan. “Childhood crush?” 

“Yeah,” Ryan giggled. “You didn’t know? I’ve liked you since I was like, eleven or twelve.” 

“When I -?” 

Ryan peered up at Shane with such a bittersweet emotion in his eyes, it nearly took his breath away. “Yeah, you just looked so badass out there, who knew you would turn out to be such a huge dork? But, that just made me love you more.” 

For the first time, in his entire life, Shane felt light, liberated. The Capitol may have owned his body, but his mind, his heart, his soul? They were set free, no longer shackled by obligation or guilt. He would have to live with his mistakes, sure, but they no longer owned him. 

Shane laughed until he cried.

===

The moment Finnick Odair's name was picked from the lottery of potential tributes, Shane let out shaky breath of air. The tension that had seized his muscles for the last several months had finally dissipated. No longer held together by pure stress, his shaky knees almost buckled beneath him.

Shane peaked at Ryan from his peripherie. He expected the shorter man to appear elated, or at the very least relieved. Instead, his expression was a culmination of sharp lines. Ryan met his eyes, drew his lips into a deep frown, and shook his head. 

Shane understood him completely; this wasn’t over, not by a long shot.

===

“I have an idea for the next episode.” 

“Oh, what is it?” 

“The Ghosts of District 13.” 

===

Shane and Ryan ran as quickly as their legs could possibly move.

The couple navigated through a concrete wasteland as a squadron of peacekeepers raced to catch up to them. 

They zigzagged to avoid the gunfire that was aimed towards them, but they never strayed from their carefully plotted route. The mines, left behind by _The First Rebellion_ , and scouted out the previous day while “on location”, guided their path.The terrible cacophony of an explosion erupted behind them, to which both Ryan and Shane breathlessly laughed at. 

If they were going to be victims to The Capitol in one way or another, at the very least, they were going to inflict as much destruction as they could. There were no other options, Ryan finally convinced Shane, whose eyes were opened to the writing on the wall. Once the Quarter Quell ended, The Capitol would find a way to punish any remaining victors left, just to be made examples of. A few nights prior, the two men decided it was better to die in a blaze of glory than to be tortured and publicly executed. 

It was only more amusing that they chose to die on their eleventh wedding anniversary. 

Just as they reached the end of their maze, five black-clad soldiers in military-like uniforms emerged from behind large pieces of rubble. Their faces were obscured by gas masks. The heavy machine guns in their hands were pointed at their heads. “Hands up!” one of them shouted. 

Shane and Ryan paused, unsure of what to do. They didn’t account for this. With nothing better planned, they did as they were instructed. 

One large, burly soldier pushed the two down to their knees by their shoulders. Two other soldiers walked around them to stand closely behind their backs. 

“Call this in,” the large one instructed. 

Hot alarm raced through Shane’s body and settled in the pit of his stomach. If they were sent back - he didn’t want to think about it. 

Shane didn’t have to. With a quick elbow-jab to the gut, Ryan threw off his guard’s focus. Momentarily dazed, the soldier’s grip on his gun loosened, giving Ryan enough of an opportunity to twist around and grab it. He pulled it down, then pushed it back up, striking the soldier’s chin with the butt of his own firearm. The hit was hard enough to knock him backwards onto his ass. 

Ryan stood and aimed the gun at the soldier on the ground. A small gasp of “Steven!” could be heard beside him. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” the man said as he frantically waved his hands. “We’re the ones who sent you the message to get here.” 

Shane wanted to ask about the message, but thought better of it. 

“Who are you?” Ryan growled out. 

The man removed his gas mask. The reveal stunned Shane; the boy appeared no older than Ryan! His soft, pale features and kind almond-shaped eyes did not attest to years spent training to be a peacekeeper or a Capitol soldier. 

“My name is Steven, and we’re from -” 

“Hey, we don’t know if we can trust them yet,” the soldier behind Shane barked. 

“You really think they’re on The Capitol’s side after all that, Andrew?” Steven shook his head. He turned his attention back on Shane and Ryan.“We’re from District 13. We’re here to rescue you.” 

“District 13 was destroyed!” Shane’s incredulity dripped from his words. 

The other soldier, Andrew, removed his gas mask. He appeared far more severe than his counterpart. His classically handsome features were marred by his scowl and icy-blue stare.

“There’s a lot The Capitol has been hiding from you all.” Andrew smirked. “So, I guess it’s now time to start believing in conspiracies, Shane.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments validate my existence :)


End file.
